


Runs in the Family

by MissLit



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Gen, Older morty, Slice of Life, possible future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5826124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLit/pseuds/MissLit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the most important thing is to know when to walk away. Even still, Beth can't stand to let go of another family member.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runs in the Family

That flask had caused Morty so much strife. It looked innocent enough, lying on his desk across the room. It had been specially bought for him, coated with a design so it looked like an old-school Gameboy. He shifted, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at it while the clock ticked away the seconds. 

Though it felt like a years ago, it had only been a few months since his twenty-first birthday. On that day, more than any other, Rick had actually been nice to him. The flask had been his birthday gift, along with plenty of booze and a trip to Blips and Chitz for the whole family. Even his dad. 

“Things are gonna change for us, Morty,” Rick had promised later that night, already on his way to a drunken stupor. Morty was helping Rick into bed, having barely enough motor skills left to do this. “G-Gr-augh-ntpa’s gonna, w-we’re… We’re gonna go an’ have a lotsa adventures, Morty just you and me Rick… Rick and Morty, all the time…” He began mumbling but Morty remembered.

“Yeah, Rick,” he grunted as he pushed Rick onto his side. “A hundred years or something.”

Morty had been happy as he crawled into bed that night. Rick seemed like he was finally respecting him. Things were going to change, and they were going to be able to do things together more often. Maybe they were going to go on better adventures, have more fun together. For a while, Morty was right. Rick was more than happy to show Morty all the crazy alien bars and drinks there were to offer. 

But that started to become a problem. He had work. He had school (Morty had somehow gotten into college of all things, he couldn’t screw that up). He’d awaken most mornings with a pounding in his head, his whole world spinning as he squinted into Rick’s face, who was eager to get a head start on a new day of exploring. 

After a while, it was hard getting up. “C’mon Morty,” Rick would tempt him with something to drink, waving Morty’s new flask at him. “Y-y-you got a big, big day. Here, i-it makes m-augh-kes the headaches go away.” Morty would nod, taking a pull from it. The moment his mind relaxed, he felt better. He could get through the day. 

And then he got fired. 

“We can’t have you drinking on the job, Smith,” his boss had sighed, taking the work apron from him. “You need to get some help.”

Rick had been amused by the change of events. “H-help? You’ve got all, got aaall the help you’ll ever, e-ever need.”

From his spot at the kitchen table with his hands over his face, Morty couldn’t see what Rick was getting at. But he could hear him pulling his flask out and taking a gulp. “Dad!” Mom had cried, shocked. “This is serious! Morty lost his job, he could get kicked out of school if this doesn’t change!” 

She was furious with him. Morty could tell, she was enraged with her son but she wasn’t willing to admit that it wasn’t completely his fault. He would lie in bed at night, the world pleasantly spinning, and he could hear Mom and Dad shouting at one another, not about each other for once, but about him. Dad was adamant; this was Rick’s fault. He was enabling Morty, this wasn’t healthy, and didn’t alcoholism run in their family? Mom would become offended, demanding to know what the hell he meant by that. Was he calling her an alcoholic? No, of course not. But their son needed help.

Mom was just as bad as they were. But Dad didn’t want to say it to her face. Their marriage was hanging by a thread, had been for years, and he couldn’t bear to lose her this late in the game. So the matter had been dropped, leaving Rick and Morty to their fun.

After a while, Morty wasn’t having any fun.

Finalizing his decision, Morty grabbed the duffle he’d had packed for a week, sliding it out from under his bed. He slipped into a pair of shoes, taking his time lacing them. His room hadn’t changed much over the years, with the exception of his posters. The same room. The same walls. The same bed. 

As he stood the mattress groaned. Grasping the duffle, he didn’t bother giving his flask a second look as he headed out the door. 

Morty slipped down the stairs but paused at the landing, listening to the house. Rick had just gone to bed, passed out as usual. Summer hadn’t lived here in years, her room stood empty. Mom had just gotten home from work a few hours ago after a late night at the horse hospital, and Dad could be heard snoring. A relieved sigh escaped him as Morty crept into the kitchen. Setting the duffle on the floor he began digging through the cabinets, grabbing a box of granola bars and some pop tarts. He was looking at a can of soup when the light flicked on.

“Morty?” Mom stood in the doorway, rubbing at her face. Frozen, Morty’s eyes darted between the bag of food he’d been amassing on the floor up to his mother’s tired visage.

It took her a full minute to recognize what he was doing. “Morty,” she repeated, her voice firm despite how white she’d gotten. “Sweetie… Don’t do this.”

He’d expected to have this conversation with Rick, maybe even Dad. He’d prepared everything he would say to each of them if they tried to stop him. But not Mom. He couldn’t.

“Mom,” he choked out, his voice cracking. 

“This isn’t funny, Morty,” she interrupted, grabbing the can of soup from him and shoving it back in the cabinet. She began emptying his bag, putting each item back. “It’s too late to be pulling stupid pranks like this, you should be asleep, you have school tomorrow—“

“Mom,” Morty interrupted, louder and more sure this time. This stayed her hand and he reached over, plucking the box of crackers from her grasp. “I… I’m not doing this to punish you,” he finally decided, staring at the box in his hands. He turned it over and over. “I just… Have to.”

Mom’s lower lip began to tremble and she whirled to face him. “Don’t.”

Reaching over, he pulled her into his arms. When had he gotten taller than his mother? Neither one could remember. She gripped the back of his jacket, tears pooling in a crevice of the fabric beneath her. “I need to get away from Rick, Mom. A-and I’m not gonna make you get rid of him. He’s Rick… We love him. But I need help. So does he. He just… Won’t get it.”

She choked, he rubbed a soothing hand over her back, his thumbnail catching in the lace of her nightgown every time he came back around to her neck. 

“I’m leaving for both of us,” Morty continued. “Because Rick’s using me. I’m his excuse to keep killing himself. If you want him to stick around for a few more years, Mom, you have to trust me and you have to let me go. Rick…” A few words came to mind. A note he’d found on accident, something he was never meant to see. “Rick makes people lose who they are and become a part of him.”

All Mom could do was nod, and for a moment they stood there in silence, listening to the refrigerator hum, dreading when they’d let go. Morty gently pushed her back, looking her in the eye. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured, causing Beth to squeeze her eyes shut as a fresh round of tears trickled through. “I know you just want to keep Rick around. I understand. We love Rick. But Mom, don’t let him push you around so much. He can take it, whatever you need to say to him. A-and I want… I want you to think about getting help, too.”

Sniffling, Beth nodded. Morty gave her a half smile as he stepped back. He reached up, putting the box of crackers back in the cabinet, and then down to grab his bag. “Morty wait,” Beth sighed, reassembling the bag. She added a few more items before handing it off. “Here… Just… Call me when you find someplace to stay?” 

“I’ll be okay, Mom,” Morty promised, kissing her forehead. “I’ll call when I’m settled. I’m not going to disappear. Just… Take care of Rick… Okay?”

She followed him to the door, watching him get into the car he’d worked hard to buy himself. The one Rick had helped him fix up when Jerry had screwed up the engine block. The one he’d taken his first girlfriend out in for every date, and the one he’d cried in when she finally said goodbye. Beth covered her mouth with her hand, watching Morty pull out of the driveway and up the street. She couldn’t blame him. 

But she wasn’t strong enough yet to blame Rick.


End file.
